


Settle

by LadyAJ_13



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Co-Dependency, Friendship/Love, JJ (Outer Banks) Needs a Hug, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 01, Touch-Starved, if you want to read it that way - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24643012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: The night John B dies, JJ moves in with Pope.It wasn’t discussed; he just climbs into the Heywards’ car and they don’t stop him. He follows them home like a lost puppy and for some reason, they let the stray stay.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara/Pope
Comments: 12
Kudos: 85





	Settle

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: a little bit of bad language, because this is from JJ's POV. It didn't seem worth a higher rating, but thought I should mention it.

The night John B dies, JJ moves in with Pope.

It wasn’t discussed; he just climbs into the Heywards’ car and they don’t stop him. He follows them home like a lost puppy and for some reason, they let the stray stay.

He turns seventeen eight days after John B dies. He, Pope and Kiara hang out in town, because none of them can look at the sea without wanting to either throw up or wade in and go searching. They smoke up - not Pope, they’re not having him fly off the rails again - and sit and sweat in the van. He floats in a haze, eyes tracing the curve of Kie’s legs, and remembers when that was the biggest thing in his life.

JJ stays with Pope. Heyward trades a bottle of decent whiskey for a rickety cot that he sets up in Pope’s bedroom, and JJ says nothing. Maybe he should say thank you. But silence is safer. Talking leads to questions, which leads to answers, which leads to JJ not living with Pope.

John B sends Kie a letter. It’s addressed to all of them, inside, and if he thinks about it he knows a letter addressed to him would have sat on a counter under a pile of unpaid bills and whiskey glasses full of half-smoked cigarettes. He’s not even there, anyway. He’s been in the Heyward house for three weeks and they haven’t got around to throwing him out yet. It doesn’t help the sharp twist in his chest, even as he feels something release for the first time since that night.

The night John B didn’t die.

It’s short, the letter, and for some reason signed by Sarah as well, as if it’s the thought of her that’s kept them all away from the water. But it’s proof. They made it. They want to stay dead for now, want to keep hunting the fucking treasure like nothing ever happened, and the anger tears at his throat.

It takes a long time to realise he’s crying, not shouting.

Kie can’t stay with them, it’s not allowed - but that night she’s there until midnight, and the three of them pile on Pope’s bed with the door open so Heyward knows there’s no funny stuff going on. He probably thinks the loss has just hit them. Mrs Heyward brings cokes and cookies like they’re kids, not teenagers, and tactfully doesn’t mention the tear tracks and the way their limbs all intertwine like they’re afraid to let go.

They all ignore the way they cling to each other as they hug Kie goodbye.

That’s the first night he doesn’t use the cot. He burrows under covers that smell of the three of them instead, and lies awake with one hand curled in Pope’s and the other grasping for something that’s not there.

\--

John B and Sarah come back. As the months passed he and Pope and Kie had wondered if they ever would; Sarah’s family has been torn apart, Ward in jail, Rafe in jail, and John B only had the three of them. He’s been fine without them, it seems, the glitter of gold and Sarah outweighing the bonds that tie pogues together. In his absence, the bonds between the three of them have thickened, twisting like old roots until he can no more imagine being without Pope and Kie than hacking off his own arm.

But he comes back. Not victorious, but alive. Seeing him again is like watching an old family video - a sensation he only knows from the Heyward stash, because Momma Heyward likes to embarrass Pope on his birthday. John B looks the same as he always was, but time and distance have shifted him, until he’s slightly out of step. 

John B is his best friend. His  _ brother. _ He’d do anything for John B; he still will. Hugging him is like coming home, like getting a piece of himself back. But John B’s hand holds Sarah’s, and Sarah is cool, he likes Sarah, but the two of them are forged together by an experience JJ has no clue about. He’s never been to the Bahamas. He’s never been shipwrecked. He’s never lived alone, truly alone. 

When they part, he goes back to the Heyward house. He climbs into Pope’s bed and hugs the pillow that smells of Kie’s perfume and it’s only then that all his pieces seem to fit together again.

\--

They become a stable five piece, but now one with a clear dividing line that makes two and three. He can see John B watching them, wondering where Kie fits. He has no words to say  _ neither _ , but also  _ both _ .

Sometimes Kie and Sarah go off to do girl stuff, but not very often - both because Kie isn’t that kind of girl, but also because he’s whispered into her throat that him and Pope and John B don’t gel anymore. Kie’s absence makes the gulf wider, and he can’t curl into Pope when John B’s watching.

\--

This was always the plan. He’s happy for Pope, Jesus, he’s so happy it feels like lightning. It strikes - but he knows when it stops flashing he’s going to realise - Pope is leaving. He’s gonna be a hot shot pathologist or whatever. And Kie’s leaving too, because she’s always been too good for the pogue life. John B and Sarah aren’t, they’re finishing up the school they missed with another year. He won’t be alone. 

He won’t be alone.

\--

The Heywards sit him down three weeks before Pope leaves. They tell him he’s welcome to stay, that there was no time limit on this, and now he gets a room of his own, isn’t that great?

He nods, and smiles, and he’s getting better at some things so he chokes out a clumsy thank you. He knows he should feel relief - that he’s not out on the streets, even though he’s eighteen and should be taking care of himself - but relief feels a lot like a heavy stone in his stomach.

\--

He lasts a week.

Then he gets up at four, packs a backpack with a change of clothes and writes a note to the Heywards. He’s not sure what he says. He hopes he remembered to thank them. He knows he left a stack of small bills, tips from working in Kie’s family restaurant.

He stows away on the early ferry. It’s not too hot this early, and he runs down the pier onto the mainland. He figures out which bus to take, even pays the fare like a good little kook, and it’s coming up eight when his boots stop outside 17 Parkfield Street.

He rings the bell.

Pope is a student now. He’s moved on, he’s left island life behind. Left pogue life behind. Just like Kie has. He’ll have a crew of new friends who didn’t almost flunk their way out of high school, who understand his highbrow references and don’t crawl into his bed because they need to be near someone.

“Oh, thank God.”

He barely registers Pope’s face before he’s yanked forward, harsh enough to lose his balance, but he’s caught, held, and God, but Pope smells exactly the same. He breathes him in, wrapping his own arms around that familiar back and holding him tight.

It’s a good job it’s early. No one else needs to see this.

He kind of never wants to let go. He can feel that twisted bond-root stirring, and wants it to tie them together, let Pope never leave him behind again. 

Pope pulls back, but he doesn’t let go entirely. His hand skates over JJ’s shoulder, then down his arm and catches, finally, at his hand. It feels like grounding, lightning skittering away and leaving nothing but the thrill. He’s tugged down a hallway of identical doors, stopping outside one with the number three on it. 

“Kie,” Pope says, opening the door. “Kie, wake up.”

His breath catches. He knew she was in this town, but he didn’t know she was in this building. He shakes his head, finger to his lips, and shucks his boots and bag. He slides into the bed behind her and gathers her up in his arms.

“Kie,” he whispers in her ear. Her eyelids flutter, and he slides his hand down to catch the elbow he knows will subconsciously fly backward as she wakes. “Kie.”

She freezes. She twists in his grip and they’re face to face - he can feel tears welling and swallows them down, because it’s only been a week for God’s sake, but a week is seven days too long. She throws herself at him. He’s got an armful of sleep-warm girl and it’s not even enough until the bed dips, Pope sitting behind him and hand coming to rest on his back.

“You’re staying, right?” asks Pope.

JJ grins, half-hidden in Kie’s hair. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve got nowhere better to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Basically speed-wrote this in a morning, after the realisation that Pope would almost definitely (we hope!) leave the island for college. Hope you liked it!


End file.
